the Phantom and Masked Musician
by brooklyn1shay2black3
Summary: Erik is a respected masked composer with an iron grip on his opera house. Christine is a young homeless girl who lives in the operas basement and becomes the "opera ghost" after she started stealing things to survive. The two meet and the story isn't quite the same.
1. Chapter 1

The Palais Garnier was a bustling building filled to the brim with working artist and savvy patrons alike.

Little Ballet rats scattered about in as their ballet mistress, the stern Madame Giry, herded them into rehearsal. Even Giry's own daughter, the tallest of the young bunch, Meg tried to get out of it.

The chorus members nervously chattered as the prima donna, La Carlotta, threw a tantrum about her costume, or the lights, or the violinist or whatever displeased her at the moment.

The composer monsieur Reyes impatiently tried to distract the beautiful woman from her rage and move along with rehearsal. Monsieur Gabriel, the chorus master, was too much a coward to stand up to his demanding Diva.

The managers, Andre and Firmin, hid away in their office and instructed their long-suffering secretary Remy to keep everyone out.

Everyone meaning monsieur Erik De Champdivers.

Erik has been a long-standing and respected member of the music world. The opera house at large owes its astounding success to his influence and dedication. The managers owe him their livelihood and every penny they've made since arriving. And god knows he won't let them forget it. The towering man strode purposefully to their office. Dressmakers and prop boys kept their head down and scurried out of his way. No one wanted to get caught staring at his bone white mask. His abundant wealth made him intimidating enough without his array of masks hiding his face from the world.

He marched past Remy and threw open the office door.

The two managers jumped. Firmin sighed and steeled himself for at least an hour of cutting remarks about the progression of Erik's newest concerto.

Below them, beneath the floorboards beneath the empty rooms below, stands a young girl wandering down a dusty catacomb.

Her bright green-blue eyes watched every shadow, her small hungry body jumped at every sound, and her nose twitched with the dust swirling in the air.

She was clutching the food she had stolen from the world above.

Her feet sought to bring her back to her abandoned palace on the shores of a glassy underground lake.

The songstress in her made her stop, right underneath the stage.

She could hear the echoes of wonderful music dance through the air.

The notes traveled to her ears, and she corrected her posture, just like her papa taught her.

She inhaled a full breath of air and sang.

Little did she know to above world heard her and feared her song.

They heard her haunting notes and luring sirens' song.

That's when the whispers began.

"_It's the Phantom of the opera_." said the hushed voices.

Christine Daae finished her song and gathered her things.

She began her decent back underground.


	2. Chapter 2

Erik was pacing. He was in his office and thinking heavily. It had been two weeks since the rumor of an 'opera ghost' circulated around. They spoke of an enchanting voice singing in the walls. Food and props going missing. Footsteps beneath the floorboards

It all pointed to an unknown factor. Erik ground his teeth and worked his jaw.

He didn't find such things pleasant.

He strained his ear for any sign of a person in the walls. He had thought he had shut up most of the entrances to the underground tunnels a few years ago.

He was pondering it when his wish was granted.

_Oh._

_That voice._

Logically Erik knew It was the sound of a high and clear soprano. Lacking in technical training but plenty of natural talent.

Erik was far beyond thinking logically.

It was the most captivating sound Erik had heard in his entire life.

And it was moving away.

Erik sprang into action.

He bolted over to the hidden opening to the catacombs and fumbled with the opening.

He barely remembered to close the door behind him.

He kept his footsteps quiet as he followed the voice deeper underground.

The feminine voice was singing in a language Erik was not familiar with. It had been a long time for him since that happened.

It's steady rising and falling of the music gave the performer in Erik a decent idea of what her range might be. He was itching to truly test the ability of the voice.

He wondered how a person not accustomed to the darkness could even find their way down there.

Light gently filtered in.

A sparse few candles were lit to the mouth of the underground lake. The owner of the voice struggled with the boat for a moment before getting in.

Erik could not allow her to row away.

He sprinted forth into the lake, seized the back of the boat with his hands and pulled.

His eyes met hers.

They were the color of a peacock feather, He thought.

She screamed, and it assured Erik in his assessment that she was a soprano.

He hurried to hush her.

"Wait, stop, Erik has no intention of harming you!" He scrambled. Hindsight from about twenty seconds ago was 20/20. He ought should have said something before he came barreling toward her. It was too late to change anything now.

She stopped screaming for a moment and Erik rushed to speak before she could start again.

"What are you doing down here?" He asked. For the first time in perhaps decades, he was careful of his tone.

Her freckled nose scrunched, and she adopted a look of false indignation.

"I live here." She said with confidence Erik was sure she did not truly feel.

"Really?" Erik replied, layering skepticism and sarcasm into his tone.

The girl stalled before giving a hesitant nod. Erik could near see how her fake bravado fizzled out of her.

"Erik supposes by 'here' you mean the house across the lake." Erik continued in a more conversational tone.

Pieces of this puzzle were falling into place. Erik gleefully turned them over and over in his mind as they revealed the truth to him.

"I do." She answered. She fidgeted with the dirty ripped skirt she wore. Her nimble fingers fixated on a single loose thread. Erik realized he was staring and snapped his yellow eyes back to the girls face.

She has rather lovely features he realized. He couldn't quite make out the details but her bright eyes and porcelain skin seemed to glow in the dark. He could make out the myriad of freckles and button nose.

A pretty if unassuming face hiding raw talent of which Erik had never seen.

Erik stepped forward and the girl coward into her corner of the boat.

It made Erik pause for a moment. He leaned out her space and saw her relax.

Interesting.

"Erik doesn't suppose you know who the true owner of the house is, hmm? You've never met him, my dear?"

The answer to Erik's leading question dawned in her eyes. She swallowed convulsively and her lips moved with unspoken words.

She finally gathered herself together enough to reply with moxy. "I suppose I'm speaking to him, aren't I?" She asked faintly.

A deep chuckle vibrated through Erik's chest.

He saw her thick brows draw together in worry and a thought struck him.

Warmth in his chest spread as he realized the opportunity he had.

_That voice._

_His to perfect and mold._

"Not to worry. Erik believes an arrangement can be made if you are willing." He stated.

Suspicion and distrust flooded her face.

She was so very easy to read. It was an endearing quality to Erik, who faced the like of malicious actresses such as La Carlotta and stony moral compasses like Nadir on a day-to-day basis.

"There is nothing I will offer you." She replied. Her nose twitched when she was anxious.

Erik noted the use of 'will' and felt his respect for the courage of this little thing increase.

"Erik sincerely hopes you will reconsider. He has no intention of harming you, miss..?"

The girl didn't fall for the bait. Her wide eyes remained watching Erik's every move. They flicked back and forth as she tried to find a way of graceful escape.

It occurred to Erik that perhaps he should be honest.

It's not a tactic he uses often and even now it leaves his skin itching to think about doing so.

He remembered the bewitching song she is capable of and decided it was worth the gamble.

"Your voice." He stated.

The girl stopped her searching for a way out and slowly brought her eyes back to him.

"My voice?" She repeated. She didn't bother to hide the surprise in her question.

Erik saw his opening and leaped at it.

He stepped out of the lake and into the boat.

He held his hand out to take the oar from the girl.

She stared at his hand. Her brows furrowed as she glanced back at her only advantage over him.

"Erik intends to take you back to his house. He's sure you've seen the instruments there. They will prove useful while he listens to your voice." Erik explained. It was an odd feeling, a tug in his chest almost, to explain himself to her.

_He was so close._

_He couldn't afford to scare her away now._

She reluctantly handed over the oar.

They glided through the water in silence.

She kept opening her mouth and closing it, her brows knitting together as she lost herself in her thoughts.

When she finally looked up at him it seemed she had found what she wanted to say.

"So your name is... Erik then?" She stated.

He gave a half bow and did not reply.

Another five minutes passed before she added. "Well, I'm Christine. Christine Daae."

Christine.

Charmont.

He had the urge to sing it. To show this little slip of a thing- Christine- what he could do.

He inhaled and sang.

_"Chriiiiiiistine."_

Her whole body jolted as the water beside her sang her name. She whipped her head around, her mountain of curls flying, jostling the boat in an attempt to find the source of the voice.

Erik couldn't keep this thin lips from curling when she snapped her attention to him.

"_Wha_\- you- di-" she spluttered. He waited for her to gather herself.

"_**You**_?!" She ranged. Her fist coiled and her pale face flushed. Her endlessly searching eyes piled accusations and questions onto him.

He opened his mouth and let her see him.

"_Chriiiiiiiiistiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine._" He crooned to her.

Her expression changed from angry surprise to dawning wonder.

"You…" Christine faltered. Erik made eye contact and awaited her verdict. "You have the voice of an angel." She whispered in hushed reverence.

Erik blinked. It wasn't what he had been expecting her to say. The genuine smile that warmed over her face had Erik catching his voice in his throat. It was a truly flattering statement.

"Erik thanks you." He choked out. Her smile dimmed only slightly.

Christine had a gap between her front teeth. It made her smile all the more charming Erik found.

The boat hit the shore and Erik held his hand for Christine to grab as she exited.

Her hesitant acceptance of his help made something in Erik glow.

There was no time to consider it now, however.

She stood next to him and Erik had to stop himself from remarking on her size.

She was extraordinarily petite. She had a healthy enough figure for her circumstances and was very tiny.

He was cautious gripping her little hand in his skeletal on.

She walked ahead of him as he attempted to right his thoughts.

Her height didn't matter in the least. He was being ridiculous.

He lead her to the room with the organ. Given all the dust, and that everything seemed to be just as he left it, Erik concluded she didn't spend time in here.

"You've made yourself at home." He commented dryly.

Christine bristled.

"I only needed the bed and stove." She sniffed at him. She lifted her chin high and marched into the room with her back straight.

Erik covered his amusement with a cough.

He sat at his organ and looked back to her.

"Erik trusts you've properly warmed up?" He said. He assumed as much from her performance earlier.

Christine flashed from being an unapologetic sprite to a nervous performer in a second. Erik was thankful for her inability to guard her even slightest thought. Her shifting moods were changing as the sky. It would be a nightmare where they not so easy to read.

"Erik wants you to try this." He began to play and started the melody in a low voice.

Christine matched him with perfect pitch.

He encouraged her to go higher.

She easily met the challenge.

Erik could feel the excitement course through his veins.

She went higher, and higher and higher…

"Sing! Sing for Erik!" He encouraged her.

Her voice along with Erik seemed to grow more frantic.

She seemed unwilling to go beyond a c6.

She repeated the note several times.

The excitement turned into heated fury.

He knew she was capable of just a little more.

He could feel it in his bones.

_So why wasn't she singing?_

He lunged forward and banged out the notes on the organ.

"_**SING**_." He roared with burning fire.

_There._

A crystalline e6.

It pierced the air and bounced off the walls.

Erik closed his eyes.

Perfection.

He opened them.

He looked at Christine.

She was panting heavily, clutching her throat with a look of awestruck wonder.

Erik realized he too was heaving for air.

She looked at him with a clear question in her eyes.  
_Did I do that?_

Erik nodded.

"Now," He said, "Let us begin your first lesson."


	3. Chapter 3

The opera house was abuzz with gossip.

The opera had just been purchased by a new owner.

Chorus girls peaked around the corner to catch a glimpse.

A small man walked out of Andre and Firmin's office looking pleased with himself. He wore a smart suit and had a small Dali mustache.

"It's the new owner." whispered one.

"Look! That must be his wife!" another pointed.

A tall woman wearing a floor-length fur coat and a heavily decorated hat followed him.

She laughed in delight and the man spun her around in a circle.

Andre and Firmin stepped out of their office, looking nervous.

The small man turned to address the two men.

"We hope the rest of the staff are as open to the change as you are." the small man chuckled, clasping Andre on the shoulder.

Firmin plastered smile and exchanged a look with Andre.

The other manager stiffened and pulled his face into an equally fake one of happiness.

"Of course! They'll all be delighted with the change. Why don't we uh, visit the stage, introduce you!" Andre suggested with false exuberance.

The couple gave a showy laugh and agreed.

Firmin speed walked ahead of them, nervously glancing about the halls and Andre attempted to distract the new owners with the history of the building.  
The foursome arrived at the stage.

Reyer and Gabriel were in the middle of conducting practice for Erik's newest concerto when Firmin sprinted for and frantically gestured for them to stop.

Rehearsal came to a screeching halt just as Andre came around with the small group.

"Ah! Yes! Ladies and Gentleman!" Andre announced.

The chorus members quieted and Carlotta whirled around.

Someone was interrupting her rehearsal.

Unbelievable .

Andre saw the look of growing seething rage on Carlotta's face and nervously picked up the pace.

"You all know a purchase of the Opera was in the making. Today it is official. May I introduce Monsieur Alain Choletti"

The man gives a small bow. Firmin glared at his workers until they gave smattering applause.

"And his lovely wife Andrea." Andre finished. The hard look stressed the stiff smile he gave the crowd. They gave another small applause. It was enough to satisfy the couple.

Choletti walked stepped forward, and the managers panicked.

"Oh god in heaven, he's going to make a speech!" Andre hissed. His partner quickly hushed him.

Now was not the time to panic.

"This is a moment we will never forget." Choletti began.

Carlotta gave a very audible huff. Andre glared at her but that did nothing to stop the prima donna from rolling her eyes and putting on a show of disinterest.

Choletti was about to go on when the doors opened.

All color drained from Andre's face.

Firmin clutched Andre's arm to keep from falling.

Reyer and Gabriel exchanged a frightened and exasperated look.

Even Carlotta put a stop to her show of upset.

Andre was the first to recover. "Ah! Monsieur De Champdivers!" Andre exclaimed. His smile was so wide it hurt now. Why did pretending things weren't collapsing around you require you to smile so much?

Erik strode towards the stage. "And what is happening here?" he asked in an even voice.

Andre and Firmin both froze.

Firmin gave a forced laugh and clapped his hands. "Perfect timing old man! We were just introducing our delightful new owners, Mons-"

"Erik heard the introduction." Erik clarified. He stood about a head taller than anyone else in the room. "Erik would like to know why it is it interrupting his performer's rehearsal?" The menacing man asked.

Andre could feel the sweat pouring off his forehead. Damn it all.

Choletti stepped forward and smiled at Erik. "I don't believe we have met. I am Alain Choletti. I am the owner as of tonight." He grasped his wife's hand and brought her forward. The woman gives Erik a painted red smile. Her gaze was entirely fixed on Erik's mask. He met her gaze with steely eyes. He made no move to introduce himself.

"This is Erik De Champdivers. He's a musical director here. An advisor of sorts. I'm sure you'll find him to very... knowledgeable." Firmin assured Choletti.

Choletti squinted. "Yes… I'm sure I will… if you don't mind me asking, monsieur, why are you wear-"

"Erik minds, in fact." Erik interrupted. His yellow eyes narrowed into slits and he leaned slightly over Choletti as to truly tower over him. The intimidation worked and Choletti closed his mouth.

"If you'll excuse Erik, monsieur, he has somewhere to be." Erik ended the conversation. He carried on off the stage.  
Once out of sight, he growled. The nerve. No matter how many times Erik has saved his managers from doom they always seem to seek it out again. Those so-called 'owners' would be nothing but trouble.

Erik opened a passage to the underground and began his descent. He put away thoughts of Choletti and his wife. He had much pleasanter things to consider.

Erik wasn't sure when in the three months he had been teaching Christine that he had fallen in love with her.  
It could have been the first time Christine sang Erik's jewel aria Think Of Me from his opera Hannibal. It could have been the night he stayed till dawn listening to her ghost stories from the far north. It could have been any of their midnight walks around the river outside of the opera house or perhaps one of the thousands of occasions Erik watched Christine experiment on arranging her wild hair.

He wasn't sure what put him over the edge. It could have been her magnificent voice or the way she snorted when she laughed. How her face would light up at a good story or how her temper flashed when he pushed her too hard. He loved her courage, her faith, her kindness, and her devotedness. Her loyalty never forgot a good deed and her sense of humor always astounded him.

He was staring and clutching his present for her when she finally looked up. She appeared to be clipping her toenails.

" Ange ? What are doing here? You aren't due for another hour." Christine tutted. She folded up her clippers and turned to him.

His heart thudded at her pet name. Ange . He was her angel. She had told him the story of her father and the angel of music. When she adopted the title as an affectionate name for him, Erik had cried. He had never felt such love before. Not even his own mother loved so well. Christine was the best of women and Erik could never be persuaded otherwise.

"Erik thought you might like the company, my sweet." He replied. He held out the package to her and hid his excitement.

Or so he thought.

Christine was not sure why Erik seemed so thrilled to be handing her a package but she did not care for it. Erik's history of getting excited about things that spelled trouble or work for Christine was too recent and longstanding to put aside her suspicion.

She didn't bother to hide her reluctance as she took it.

Please don't be more sheet music, please don't be more sheet music , She chanted silently.

Christine still shuddered at the thought of the last time he barged in with a bundle of music they had to work on right now .

She opened the box.

Her heart near stopped and whatever air she had in her lungs whooshed out.

" Ange , It's beautiful!" Christine exclaimed.  
She pulled a lovely egg white silk dress from the box and squeaked in delight when she saw the full length. Oh, it was perfect! So soft! And what pretty flowers around the neckline! Christine hugged it to her and tried to imagine wearing it. She would wear her hair down, with a flower crown of matching flowers, and perhaps that lovely locket Erik gifted her two weeks ago. Everyone in the room eyes would be on her-

Christine's fantasy came to a screeching stop. What room would she be wearing this in? What sort of event? It was too lovely to wear only in the house!

Christine looked to her friend and narrowed her eyes into slits. He was up to something, she knew it.

"Erik, what is this for?" She demanded. Christine had no patience for his cloak and dagger routine today.

Erik chuckled and took her small hand in his. She was still clutching the dress. She admired the way the fabric seemed to glide-

" Cherie , You will make your debut. Erik has it all arranged. This is to be your dress."

Christine had no words.

"But-but-" Christine spluttered. She nearly dropped the dress in surprise and dove to catch it. She was not ruining it "I'm not ready yet!" She shrieked.

She couldn't make her debt now! She wasn't comfortable with her upper registry yet! She has never performed in front of a crowd! She was having second doubts about leaving her hair down in this dress! She wasn't ready!

Erik shook his head. "You're wrong Christine. You're more than ready. To wait any longer would be a mistake. The opera is throwing a welcoming party for the new so-called owners. It can expect performances from the lowest chorus member to the Prima Donna will take place. Your voice will join there's and triumph. Go, try your dress on. Let's see how it looks."

Andre didn't want to be throwing this gala.

In the two weeks, Choletti and his wife had been there they had proved to be nothing but a nuisance.

Andrea had sent various stagehands to take a full inventory of the opera house, making the actual performances taking place run wild with mishaps. The woman was a menace, quickly making enemies in abundance.

She and La Carlotta had clashed near immediately. With an insult to her talent directly before the opening performance of Erik's newest opera Le prince masqué du Caucase Carlotta refused to go on. Choletti threatened to fire both Firmin and Andre if they couldn't find a replacement.

Luckily, Madame Biancarolli was eager to take Carlotta's place on stage.

Andre had never been more relieved that Erik was so preoccupied.

It left him wondering what exactly Erik was up to.

Whatever it was, he hoped it would hold his attention for a little longer.

His mind turned over to his conversation with Choletti and Andrea he had at the beginning of the gala.

"Your Prima Donna is so charming." Andrea lied. She fanned herself with her fan and smiled at Andre. She was not a talented liar but Andre didn't dare call her out.

"Yes, Senora Carlotta is talented." Firmin agreed with a panicked chuckle.

Choletti smiled and wagged his finger.

Oh lord above, that didn't bode well, Andre moaned to himself.

Now what?

"Yes, very charming" Choletti agreed. "And talented too. She's almost as talented as my darling wife."

Andrea laughed. "Oh dearest, you flatter me." She turned to the two managers. "I do love to sing. I have a true natural talent. I can't wait to make my debut on the Paris stage."

Andre froze.

His eyes snapped to Firmin, who had a similarly panicked facial expression.

"Whatever do you mean?" Andre asked. He forced cheer into his tone and hoped they mistook his smile for sincere.

Choletti's eyes gleamed at the question. "After this upcoming run of that De Champers fellows little project, we shall be putting on Norma, with Andrea starring."

Andre and Firmin immediately locked eyes.

Years of working together made it easy for them to read each other.

Are we going to stop this train wreck ourselves or let Erik handle it? Andre asked with a tilt of his head.

Firmin looked between Choletti and Andrea before gesturing at himself and Andre.

It seemed it was up to them to put an end to the idea.

"I'm sorry, but Monsieur De Champdivers would be terribly offended if we didn't run Hannibal as planned." Andre replied with care.

Choletti and Andrea frowned.

"Well if we can't perform Norma as we planned, can't Andrea play the lead in Hannibal?" Choletti asked.

Andrea gasped and smiled. "Oh yes! That would be perfect! There is the most beautiful aria for Elissa! Stunning!" Andrea hummed a piece of Think Of Me for them and finished with a delighted laugh. "Yes, that will do nicely. Perfect for my debut, Darling."

Andre nervously laughed. "I'm sorry madam, but those sorts of changes aren't up to us. You must speak to Monsieur De Champdivers about that. As of now, La Carlotta is set to reprise her role as Elissa."

Choletti and Andrea stiffened and locked eyes with each other. They seemed to have their own private discussion before Andrea turned to them.

"This De Champdivers, he sounds so familiar, I can't place his name. What exactly are his qualifications for deciding the cast of Hannibal?" She asked.

A laugh bubbled out of Firmin. "Madame, he wrote the opera. I don't know who would better understand the role than the author!"

Andre glared at Firmin. He would get them fired with such outburst!

Instead of being offended, however, Andrea seemed ecstatic.

"Oh truly! Oh, darling!" She grasped her husband arm. "Dearest, can you imagine? Such a success working for our opera house!"

Andre and Firmin exchanged a quick glance.

Better her be thrilled by the information than the opposite.

"Yes, I wonder how I was not informed before," Choletti remarked. He looked at the managers with a suspicious eye.

Andre rapidly sought an answer.

Firmin's quick thinking saved him from replying. "Monsieur De Champdivers is an intensely private man, as I'm sure you've noticed. I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen him since you've arrived." Firmin said. He gave a pointed look to Andre.

Andre was quick to pick up the cue. "And it's been such a short time since you've arrived! Not to worry, I'm sure you'll get caught up in no time at all-" Andre rambled. He quickly ushered them further inside and the couple was quickly engaged by the leading tenor, Ubaldo Piangi.

"Monsieur Andre, Monsieur Firmin." A bass voice snapped Andre out of his thoughts. He threw back his flute of champagne and turned around.

His jaw near dropped.

There stood Erik. He was wearing his usual attire of an excellently tailored suit. His mask was an odd beige color as opposed to his usual gleaming white and for once he seemed to be in a good mood.

That isn't what shook Andre to the core.

What was causing so much upset to Andre's nervous system was the petite young girl on Erik's arm.

She just made the mark of commonly pretty with upswept curly hair and pearl white skin marred by freckles. Her gown looked moderately expensive, and she was well groomed.

Who was she?

She smiled at Andre with gapped teeth and full painted red lips.

"If Erik may introduce his new protege, Mademoiselle Christine Daae."

Her smile grew, and she bowed her head to the two gentlemen.

Firmin started. He looked bewildered and Andre wondered what was wrong now. "Daae? That's a curious name. Any relation to the violinist?"

This girl, Christine, stiffened at the mention. The smile melted off, and she swallowed.

"My father, sir." She replied.

Andre could hear the lyrical tone in her speaking voice. He could imagine her to be talented. Erik had never taken on a student before so she must be somewhat gifted.

"This is Monsieur Richard Firmin and Gilles Andre. They're the managers here. Erik is sure you'll be seeing them more often. Now, Christine, Erik thinks it's just about time for your performance. He will wait for you once it's over."

With that, Christine made her way to the stage and Erik melted back into the shadows.

"Did you see that!" Firmin squawked.

Andre took another champagne flute.

Christine stepped onto the stage. Erik said it all been arranged. She gave a nervous smile and nod to her accompanist.

Her pianist gave her a friendly smile that did little to comfort her. She hadn't performed in front of a crowd in so long and certainly never one of this size.

She picked at her fingernails.

Whenever she was nervous when she was young her papa would be there to smile at her and she knew everything would be ok.

Papa wasn't here anymore.

Christine was about to rush off stage when the piano began.

She took a breath and steeled her nerves.

" Think of me. " She started " Think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye."

She strived to hide her dread. She was off to a weak start.

Whatever interest she had gathered was quickly going.

" Remember me, every so often, promise me you'll try ." Christine sang.

People looked away from the stage.

Christine wanted off. She wasn't ready, her voice wasn't good enough yet, she needed more time-

Her eyes caught sight of Erik, there in the shadows.

Of course, he was lurking on the outside of everything.

It brought a smile to her face and confidence in her voice.

What was she thinking? She could do this. This was just the first of many triumphs in her career.

" Then you find, that once again you long, to take your heart back and be free, if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me. " Christine allowed her voice to steady and soar.  
The reaction was almost immediate. People turned their heads and stared at her in awe. Her voice was captivating people just like Erik said.

She grinned and opened her mouth once more.

Firmin's jaw dropped.

The girls' voice was spectacular.

He and Andre rushed to the table they shared with the owners to monitor the situation.

Firmin knew without a doubt that Erik planned on introducing this girl to as many people in the room as he could.

His protege ? Since when did Erik have any interest in teaching?!

Firmin at first wondered if perhaps Erik's interest in the girl lay beyond her voice, but all speculation flew out of his head when she began her song.

Erik would have her sing his jewel aria from the operas next production.

"She has a very sweet little voice." Choletti remarked.

Andrea smiled and leaned forward. "But thin." She answered.

Firmin gave her an incredulous look.

Andre glance at him with worry on his face.

Yes, they were right to worry about these two facing Erik after the girl- Christine, he believes her name to be,- was finished with her song.

" We never said

our love was evergreen

or as unchanging as the sea"

" But please promise me

That sometime

You will think of me!"

Carlotta rolled her eyes at Ubaldo's awestruck look.  
"Don't look so dumbfounded, Amato . Her voice is as flat as her-" Carlotta looked to her chest and saw it was nowhere near flat. She quickly moved on. "And do you see all those freckles? What is she a farm girl?" Carlotta chucked, shook her head, and took a drink of her champagne.

"Don't even, Carlita . The girl's voice is fine." Lucia Biancarolli replied with a condescending smile. "Though you're right about her skin. Pity, she was almost pretty."

Ubaldo scoffed at the both of them. "You both are ridiculous. The girl is talented. I wonder who trained her? Someone at the opera? Gabriel, perhaps?"

"And I wonder what she gave in return," Lucia smirked. Her reply had Carlotta choking on her alcohol and smothering her giggles.

Ubaldo set down his own flute of drink with a bang and pointedly looked away from the two with a disgruntled look.

" Think of me,

Think of me waking,

Silent and resigned.

Imagine me

Trying too hard to put you from my mind."

Meg Giry sat next to her mother, leaning away from the stern woman as to exchange hushed whispers with her fellow ballet rats.

"She's an angel ." Cecile breathed reverently.

Jammes giggled at her friend. "Her voice is perfect. And her looks aren't bad either. I wouldn't mind having her serenade me." Jammes fluttered her eyelashes and dramatically swooned.

Aimee grinned. "I wonder what sa Majeste has to say about it." Aimee sniggered and pointed to Andrea.  
Cecile's laugh was a little too loud because Madame Giry turned her cool gaze from the stage to the gaggle of over-excited teenage girls sitting at her table.

Meg gulped, quickly smacked Aimee's hand down, and tried to turn her attention back to the dream performing on stage.

" Recall those days,

Look back on all those times,

Think of the things we'll never do…

There will never be a day

When I won't think of you!"

Raoul's heart thudded powerfully in his chest like thunder.

" Philippe !" He hissed to his older brother.

He wasted a whole second of this stunning spectacle to look at his brother.

Raoul squawked in indignation to see Philippe staring longingly at La Sorelli.

"Philippe!" Raoul shrilled in a quiet of voice he could manage.

His brother finally turned to look at him with annoyance.

"What?" The older man grumbled.

"Its Christine!" Raoul burst.

From the moment she stepped onto stage Raoul could feel the nagging feeling of recognition. He kept staring and squinting at her.

It wasn't until a curl came loose during her singing it hit Raoul like a train.

"Who?" Philippe asked with exaggerated boredom.

Raoul spun to look at him and fixed him with a glare.

"Christine Daae!" Raoul said through gritted teeth.

Philippe's face remained blank.

" **Little Lotte **?!" Raoul barked.

A couple from the table angrily shooshed Raoul. He felt his frustration cool into embarrassment.

Philippe finally blinked in recognition.

"The little violinist's girl? Your playmate from our summers by the sea?" Philippe asked.

Raoul threw up his hands in a finally gesture and nodded his head.

Philippe sat for a moment, absorbing that before a smile twitched onto his face. "How charming! She's certainly not the gawkish girl she used to be, eh Raoul?" Philippe chucked. A look of genuine fond remembrance crossed his face. "What a little doll she's grown into. Say, let's invite her to dinner after the gala. Give the two of you a chance to catch up." Philippe gave a good nature nudge to Raoul.

His face burned a deep red. "She might not remember me… and even if she does... we were so so young and innocent then…" Raoul grumbled. He tucked his flaming face into his neck to try to hide his embarrassment.

" Were ?" Philippe asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

Raoul tucked himself in further and wouldn't look at his brother.

Philippe laughed and clasped his brother on the shoulder. "She might not remember you, but what better time to rekindle the flame?"

Raoul slowly uncrumpled himself and took a deep breath in. His embarrassment was traded for excitement.

"You're right." Raoul turned his determined gaze to Christine. "The worst thing that can happen is she'll say no, right?"

"Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade, they have their seasons so do we." Christine serenaded the audience. She could feel their amazement and energy from where she stood.

They liked it!

She was doing well!

Erik was right!

"But please promise me that sometimes, you...will..think…:"

Christine launched into her cadenza. She wanted to blow them away. She wanted them to never forget how she sang tonight.

With a final push, she leaped into the end of her cadenza.

" Of me!"

The applause was deafening.

Her chest felt like something was bursting inside. She stared out at all of their faces and near fainted.

She brought her hand up to her mouth and covered it.

She did it. She was a success.

The applause, the triumph, the pride in herself, it was everything she could have imagined it to be, and it was real.

" Brava, Brava, Bravissima ." A golden voice rang out. The thunderous applause died out. There, in the middle of the room, walking toward her was Erik.

Christine beamed at him. He stood at the bottom of the stage.

He was proud of her. She could tell.

Well good , she thought. He should be.

Erik leans into her and whispers "Come, there are people Erik is eager for you to meet."

"Monsieur Choletti, Madame. This is my student, Mademoiselle Christine Daae." Erik announced.

Choletti, to his small credit, kept an empty smile on his face when he took this Christine girl's hand in his. His wife, the beastly woman, fanned her obnoxious fan faster.

Carlotta sneered.

This was just like Erik, she thought to herself. He would pull this stunt the same night that was supposed to be Carlotta's triumph over that pig Andrea Choletti.

The hag has spent the last two weeks poking her scaly beak in Carlotta's business. Making snide little comments about Carlotta's voice, her acting, anything she thought she could get away with.

The snake had the audacity to tell her toady little husband she was dissatisfied with Carlotta's tone!

Carlotta did not let it stand. She refused to go on that night.

Lucia, the saucy little wench, kept Carlotta from fully making her point but it still should have been enough to make it clear who had earned their way into the Garnier and who bought it.

That's when Carlotta caught wind of the rumors. All this time that haggard witch was vying for Carlotta's spot as Prima Donna!

Carlotta spent the next week rehearsing like a mad woman so she could show up this Andrea.

And now Erik showed up with his precious little ingenue. He had been scampering around all night to put her on display.

It was all so frustrating she could tear her hair pieces it and stuff them down that masked buffoon's throat!

Carlotta snarled and slammed her fourth glass of champagne.

She would show them.

She stomped over to Erik.

"Monsieur." She said in a way of greeting. The man looked down at her from his great height. Carlotta and Erik were on... interesting terms.

She believed him to be a puffed up hermit who spent all his time alone because no one can stand his company.

He thought her a drama queen with too much self-importance and not enough talent.

They had a shaky truce out of necessity as there were few performers able to replace Carlotta and none to replace Erik.

"Senora." He replied.

The two nodded to each other. Carlotta's eyes slid to the bug-eyed little girl next to him.

"Christine, this is La Carlotta Giudicelli, the current Prima Donna. Senora, this is Christine Daae, Erik's new student."

The girl bowed her head and smiled. She had ghastly teeth. Carlotta was completely distracted by the gaping gap between her two front teeth.

"It's a pleasure, Senora." The girl said. Her voice had a squeaky, nasal undertone Carlotta knew carried on to her singing.

Carlotta looked at her disdainfully. "Yes." She replied. "What a gown you have on. So... simple."

This Christine child's starchy white skin flushed red with what appeared to be pleasure.

Carlotta's scowl curled. No voice and no taste.

"It might be the loveliest thing I own." Christine replied. She looked down at the off white fabric with a loving gaze.

"The loveliest thing you own, as anyone here can attest to, is your voice, my dear." Erik corrected her.

She looked up at him with that unattractive beaming smile.

Carlotta's eyes flickered at the both of them and her stomach churned.

The little witch is definitely sleeping with him, Carlotta scrutinized.

A cold smile found its way to her face.

"Yes, what a voice you have." Carlotta praised in a sickly sweet tone "It was very obviously your first performance. How brave you must be to put yourself on display like that."

Erik's yellow eyes snapped to Carlotta's face. She sweetly smiled in return, fluttering her eyelashes. Carlotta could play his little game better than he could and Erik can die mad about it.

"Brave? Erik wouldn't call it that. Christine was born with such a natural ability she could have walked onto that stage as a toddler and performed with more soul than some of the divas here in this opera house, wouldn't you agree?" Erik asked. He thought he was so superb at hiding his snide accusatory undertone.

Carlotta felt her blood boil. For three years he's been complaining of her so-called soulless singing. It didn't matter if her pitch, her tone, her texture was perfect. Every rehearsal, every performance he had a condescending comment about the emotional quality in her voice. At least she had personal quality, unlike the little flea he dragged up from the gutter to sing.

"Not at all, Monsieur. Natural ability is one thing, for sure, but a true diva will get nowhere with just that. You have to have taste. Knowing the right people, so on and so forth, won't make you a true artist." Carlotta replied with ease she didn't feel.

She could feel the heat of his glare and delighted on it.

"Erik agrees. Despite being so closely...acquainted with your fellow cast members, it hasn't surely hasn't improved your performance, nor has it improved your taste. Your little mutts can attest to your lacking in that department, Madame!"

Christine had long stopped attending to Erik's conversation with La Carlotta. Erik's dislike of the woman was only diverting for so long.

She looked around with a slightly bored expression. She amused herself by ogling at the ladies dresses before she caught sight of a boy.

He kept jerking his head and motioning for her to follow him.

Christine glanced at Erik, who was still occupied by his heated debate with his Prima Donna.

Christine worried her lip, glancing at the boy, and then back at Erik.

He'd be fine, she reasoned, this was his world. He was the one who should be worried about her.

Christine gently touched his sleeve and moved to follow the boy.

He led her not so far away and Christine felt more at ease with her decision to leave Erik's side. He could surely find her easily in the crowd.

The boy spun and grasped her forearms. Christine gasped in surprise.

"Do you remember me?!" He asked frantically.

Christine stared at him. This was awkward. Not at all what she was expecting.

She forced a laugh and smile. "No?" She answered. She wanted to add something but was at a loss for words.

The boy looked crushed. "Really? Not even a little, Christine?" He pleaded.

Christine shifted from awkward to uncomfortable. She gently took his hands off of her arms and gave him a kind smile.

"I'm sorry, monsieur." She laughed nervously "I'm afraid I must go back to my-"

"I AM THE LITTLE BOY WHO WENT INTO THE SEA TO RESCUE YOUR SCARF" the boy yelled.

Christine could only blink at him. She slid her eyes to the people now staring at them. She noted a tall, older man with dark hair had his head in his hands.

She slowly turned back to the boy and processed his words.

Wait, a minute…

That nose! That big, hawkish, roman nose she knew so well!

" Raoul ?" She breathed.

His face lit up and Christine laughed in astonishment. "Raoul? Raoul De Changy?!"

"It's me!" He exclaimed, "Little Lotte, you haven't forgotten!"

Christine shrieked in glee at the nickname. "You remember that?!" She asked in delight.

Raoul's smile was glowing.

"Of course! Little Lotte thought, am I fonder of dolls?"

"Or of goblins or shoes?" Christine and Raoul finished at the same time, both laughing when they realized it.

"Or of riddles or frocks" Christine teased in her most dramatic voice.

"Or of chocolates!" Raoul attempted to imitate her voice. His face brightened as he burst "Those picnics in the attics!"

Memories grasped Christine tightly, and she felt she too couldn't keep them in. "Father playing the violin!" Her smile was hurting her cheeks and she couldn't hold back the joyful laughter.

"As we read to each other dark stories of the north! You and your trolls!" Raoul cried.

" **ME **?! You believed in them as much as I!" Christine exclaimed.

She got a hold on her laughter and sung the rest of the fondly remembered poem " No what I love best, Lotte said " she vocalized. It earned her a few stares, but she didn't mind. "Is when I'm asleep in my bed, and the Angel of music sings songs in my head ."

She hummed the last line again. Raoul's look of wonder sent a thrill right to Christine's stomach.

"Christine... it's been so long…" Raoul grappled for words. Christine felt her heart settle. The warmth that flowed through her upon recognizing Raoul didn't diminish.

"Christine, how are you? How's your father? Is he here?" Raoul asked suddenly.

His eager expression drove daggers into her heart.

The happy warmth brought by Raoul's presence quickly drained. In its place was the cold emptiness Christine was familiar with.

" Älskling ... Papa is dead." Christine choked out.

Raoul's expression dropped and Christine's chest tightened.

" No ... w-when did this happen…? Christine, I'm so…' Raoul fumbled. He took a breath and was silent for a moment.

Christine Daae don't you dare cry on the night of your first triumph, a voice hissed in her ear. It wasn't the first time she thought it tonight. Earlier she had been thinking it for different reasons…

Raoul gently grasped her hands. His eyes were so warm and caring... he really hadn't changed.

"Christine, come to dinner with me. We can talk about everything. Please say you will." Raoul implored.

Christine didn't have time to reply.

A bony hand clutched her shoulder.

"Christine." Erik's voice rumbled.

Christine turned in surprise. Guilt came over her. She had near forgotten her friend.

"You are being asked after," Erik informed her. His eyes were locked on Raoul's face.

"Of course," Christine agreed. She flushed and gave Raoul an apologetic smile. "Another time, Raoul."

Before her friend could reply Christine was whisked away.


End file.
